(Poem) What Happens When Hate Wins? by Sara Wright
What happens when Hate wins? Do the Sandhill cranes stop singing? Do the junipers cease to release their scent? Do the stars fall into the sea? Does the white moon Read More …
What happens when Hate wins? Do the Sandhill cranes stop singing? Do the junipers cease to release their scent? Do the stars fall into the sea? Does the white moon Read More …
I stood out under the thick gray clouds And listened to the bird song, the roaring river flood, watched the swallows soaring overhead cutting the invisible link between earth and Read More …
For the last couple of days we have had cloudy weather with a few irregular cloudbursts bringing much needed rain to our Juniper clustered high desert…When it rains earth tones Read More …
When I first arrived in Abiquiu the Pedernal stood out above the other mountains with its imposing triangular shape and flattened top. Initially this mesa fascinated me because Georgia O’Keeffe Read More …
Per Wikipedia, Datura “was known as an essential ingredient of potions and witches’ brews.” The word witch was first coined by the King James version of the Bible, which appeared Read More …
There she is in flight, a shooting star on fire. There she spirals eyeless her blue wind births chaos. There she moans bitterly churning up dark waters. There she plows Read More …
Election Dream: November 9th Just an image: I see bleached, broken, slashed, and severed tree roots scattered over the entire horizon – which seem to stretch out in front of Read More …
[I took this photograph during the last full moon (12/24/2015), the “Earth’s Renewal Moon” according to the Blackfoot Nation. This moon belongs to Waboose, the Spirit Keeper of the North Read More …
Each December I feel as if I am participating in an ancient rite when I tip the aromatic branches of our native balsam tree to bag and bring home to Read More …
Read all posts by Sara Wright. Sara is a Jungian therapist, a naturalist, ethologist, ritual artist, animist, and a writer who lives in the western mountains of Maine and writes Read More …
This winter has been so mild that I feel that I am already perched on the edge of the next season. The brook has never been completely frozen and all Read More …
The following day I went to see where Ghost Ranch was located, the first place that Georgia lived (and bought), where she painted many of her landscapes. I was not Read More …
As some of us know, while making a pilgrimage, time stretches out like a rubber band, and once the threshold has been crossed one is catapulted into sacred space where Read More …